


Breaking The Tension

by MollySHJW



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: BBC Sherlock - Freeform, Johnlock - Freeform, Johnlock Fluff, Johnlock Smut, Johnlock fanfic, Johnlock smuff, M/M, Sherlock Fanfiction, Sherlock fanfic, Student!Sherlock, Teacher!John, Teacherlock, Teenlock, bbc sherlock fanfiction, johnlock fanfiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-11 11:25:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2066337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MollySHJW/pseuds/MollySHJW
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock couldn't help it. He just couldn't. He wanted this man. Badly. The brunette hadn't been able to think properly for weeks now. It was annoying. Distracting and annoying. And it was constantly getting worse. Recently, he couldn't do experiments any more as well, since his mind always drifted away to Mr Watson. Two days ago he had even burned his left index finger with acid – a stupid mistake that only happened because he couldn't stop his thoughts from spinning around his blonde, though slightly greyish haired English teacher. A man that was almost two decades older than himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What proof do you have for those ridiculous theories?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disappointment at the beginning: No smut yet! I'm sorry^^ Actually there isn't happening much yet, but there will, trust me on that :)
> 
> I didn't exactly have co authors, but I made RP prompts to the story and let myself get inspired by several really talented RP-Partners for John's character - so thanks to a ton of strangers for helping me with this :)

Sherlock Holmes was different than other people his age. He was in no way a usual a normal seventeen year old. Probably the only thing which could be described _ordinary_ was the fact that he was still living with his parents, but that would change in exactly 39 days, when he'd turn _finally_ eighteen. He already had a flat even. Not that he had told his parents about it. Especially mummy would have tried to talk him out of it. He was already making enough money, though,  since he had solved his first real case, a tricky murder – which were actually two murders, just that one of them had happened a few years earlier.Plus he had found a great flat, two bedrooms, very cheap and it was even a rather prime spot. Baker Street. Another advantage of it was that he already knew the landlady from that case he had solved on coincidence when he was fifteen and with his family in Florida. There he had met Mrs Hudson and she had given him a special deal for the already low rent. But that was all unimportant today. He had to face another adventure. A really tricky one.

_School._

Today would be his first day on an actual public school. Lucky Mycroft who had already graduated before mummy had the brilliant (absolutely _not_ brilliant) idea to send her children to a school to make friends, instead of being taught by private teachers. What mummy didn't understand though, was that Sherlock was perfectly happy without _friends_ (and those possible friends were probably more than happy if they'd never have so much of bad luck to meet Sherlock Holmes). But Mummy thought that was exactly what Sherlock needed.

_It wasn't._

Then the teachers. Sherlock was already far more educated than them, that was for sure.. He was sure they'd be dull and ordinary and not worth his time. But that wasn't even the worst part of the problem. The absolutely worst was the horrible School uniform.. A blackish-greyish-blueish, somewhat bulky blazer (if you could call it that), a white shirt that was matching to the blazer just as shapeless and made of _cotton,_ itchy and horrible cotton, but not as worse as the brownish-black trousers which jarred with the blazer.. The tie was designed in diagonal stripes in three different (ugly) shades of blue, white and black. Not that Sherlock was a fashion fetishist, but that was an insult for the eye. And to crown it all the already cumbersome uniform was even bulkier on him since Sherlock had to take the school's largest size because he was already taller than most of the teachers and even with the largest size, the sleeves along with the trouser legs were too short.

On the whole, Sherlock looked ridiculous, wearing it, even if Mummy thought it was _adorable_. Of course Sherlock knew her opinion wasn't worth a straw. She was a mother. Her brain was designed to find her own children adorable and pretty even if they were too tall, too thin, weird-faced and wearing a school uniform, he'd fit in twice. Or in Mycroft's case weird-faced and fat with OCD which made him carry an umbrella everywhere he went and always – really bloody _always_ – straighten the knocker. Due to hormones – tedious things, thank god Sherlock hadn't had to deal with them yet – mothers were basically unable to find their own children weren't perfect no matter how far away they were from that term. Fathers had a similar problem, but it wasn't as bad as it was with mothers.

"Sherlock! Get up! You gotta be in school in half an hour!" Speaking of the devil, Mummy called from downstairs as if by command.

"I don't want to, leave me alone!" Sherlock called back, burritoring himself in his sheet and pouting. He really didn't want to go there. People disliked him. That was a fact. There was no magic fairy dust that would rain on him the moment he entered the building and would make him more likeable. He would be hated by everyone, that was for sure.

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes!" Mummy called and Sherlock sighed in annoyance as he heard footsteps on the stairs which were coming too fast too close to his door until Mummy eventually entered the room. "Move your bum out of the bed and get dressed. You don't want to be late on your first day, do you?"

"I don't want to go there at all. What part of 'leave me alone' didn't you understand exactly?" he snapped and looked up at his Mum.

"Don't take that tone on me, Sherlock."

Sherlock huffed, grumbling a barely audible, "Sorry." His mother was the only person on this planet Sherlock found somewhat intimidating. "But sending _me_ to a normal school? Did you hit your head somewhere? There'll be people, Mummy." he said and tried to convince her to just let him be with his puppy look, even though that hadn't worked the last 59 times he'd tried it, either.

"Oh, Sher, you don't have to be shy." Mummy said and sat down on the edge of Sherlock's bed, stroking his tousled curls, straightening them a bit.

Sherlock tried to shake her hand off, "I'm not shy! It's illogical to send a person like me to a public school. That's why you and Dad decided to hire private teachers for me and Mycroft in the first place, remember? The chance I'll be bullied is rather high. Kids are cruel. I'll be insulted and probably beaten! Is that what you want? Is that some sort of punishment for the kitchen? I told you I didn't blow up the fridge on purpose. I only calculated it the chemicals wrong because Redbeard was sick and I was distracted!" he rambled and turned his back to his Mum, crossing his arms.

Mummy only laughed softly at that, continuing to stroke Sherlock's head, not minding that Sherlock had tried to stop her from doing that – well, actually he kind of liked it even, not that he would admit it. "Sherlock, you and Mycroft are extraordinary boys. We only hired those private teacher to grant you the best possible education, it had nothing to do with you not being able to make friends. You're a lovely boy. Stubborn, arrogant, but under your aloof mask, you're adorable."

"What proof do you have for those ridiculous theories?" Sherlock grumbled, rolling his eyes and keeping his back turned to her.

"Let's take Redbeard for example, he wasn't _sick_ , he only sneezed once and you were so distracted and worried that you blew up the fridge and not to forget – as you tend to do – burnt my curtains and ruined the wallpaper." Mummy chuckled, "Sherlock you're an amazing young man and if people can't see that, they're idiots. And _no_ , that was no permission to tell everyone who can't see that so."

"I will do anyway."

"I know, love." she chuckled and stood up, patting Sherlock's shoulder, "Come on, get up and dress. I ironed your favourite trousers for you and bought you a new, proper white silk shirt, I know you hate cotton. And I can't let my son walk around in trousers that end two inches above his socks.  The clothes are in the bathroom. " she said softly. "Well, can't help with that horrible tie and jacket, though."

Sherlock looked over his shoulder at her and smiled tightly, "Thank you... I guess." he muttered and looked back into the opposite direction again, hearing her chuckle silently again, before leaving the room.

"I see you downstairs  in ten?" she asked.

"Fine." Sherlock huffed and sighed, hearing her closing his door.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, told you there isn't happening much. But in the next chapter John will show up and turn Sherlock's world upside down ♥ sort of :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Of course, I'm nervous, I can't imagine anyone who wouldn't be nervous if he was going to be beaten to a pulp..."

Sherlock needed only a few minutes for his morning routine, really glad that Mummy had mercy with him and at least let him wear something similar to his usual clothes. After dressing, Sherlock went down the stairs, followed just as usual by Redbeard – his two year old Irish Setter – who followed Sherlock everywhere he went. Walking into the kitchen, Sherlock first filled Redbeard's bowl.

"You look good. With a decent shirt and trousers, it really doesn't look so bad." His dad said, glancing up from his papers and looking Sherlock up and down.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "It still looks awful." he murmured and sat down at the breakfast table, where his mum had already prepared a bowl of cereals and a cup of tea for him. He wasn't hungry, but he had promised Mum that he would regularly eat, if she wasn't making him find some sort of part time job to pay for the ruined kitchen – which would have been ridiculous in itself, since his family was rather wealthy and a ruined kitchen was really not such a big deal, it didn't even take a full week until it was looking like nothing ever happened. Must have been some sort of parenting method. After a long discussion Sherlock and his parents had come to the conclusion that it would suffice for Sherlock to learn his lesson if he would go for a regular breakfast routine – Mum had wanted breakfast _and_ dinner, but Sherlock had convinced her that a regular breakfast was already quite much to take for his stomach.

"It doesn't, Sher. You look good. I bet you'll be the hot topic of the girls before lunch ends." Mummy chuckled and gave Sherlock a wink, followed by her usual _eat or I'll feed you_ -look as she watched him absently stirring his cereals.

Doing as he was – more or less – told, Sherlock sighed, chewing a mouthful of cereals. Girls weren't even his area. Not that he would have had an actual area when it came to this, but he knew for a fact that he was naturally preferring boys. Women just didn't interest him in general, they were just there, while there – he had to admit – have been boys he had considered somewhat good-looking, but that was all. He had never been interested in anyone and that was good.

Sentiment just wasn't something he was too eager to deal with, let alone with sexuality, yet if he had to make a guess, he'd say, he was asexual. _Happily_ asexual with a very slight tendency towards males, but not enough to ever be seriously interested in someone. He was glad he didn't have to bother with hormones or emotions or – perish the thought – the common symptoms of puberty. There had been a time – shortly after puberty started – where Sherlock was bothered by morning erections, but he had never done anything about it. And after a month or two of ignoring them – well, they stopped. Since then, nothing.

"Can I skip breakfast today?" Sherlock asked and only reluctantly he swallowed the bite he was still chewing on. He was much too nervous to eat anything. Or well, nervous wasn't quite the right way to put it. He was anxious. He wouldn't wonder if he'd end up in hospital. Yet maybe that would be good, though. If Mum would see that Sherlock was in fact bullied and beaten, she would hopefully finally forget about her stupid idea of Sherlock _making friends_.

"You're nervous, I take it?" Mummy asked with a knowing smile and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Of course, I'm nervous, I can't imagine anyone who wouldn't be nervous if he was going to be beaten to a pulp..." he muttered and shovelled another spoon full of cereals into his mouth, just because.

"Oh, stop it now, Sherlock, you won't get beaten up. Look, if it's really that bad, you can call me anytime and I'll pick you up, but that doesn't mean that you can call me only because you consider the people on the school idiots. You will either way, even if it's just because you want to prove me wrong. So you can call me if they actually harm you, but if not, you'll graduate on this school. _Period_." his Mum said sternly and sat down at the table, nipping at her coffee, still using that embarrassing cup Sherlock had made when he was five and his dad had tried to teach him to do pottery, which was his Dad's favourite hobby. It wasn't even a real cup. It looked more like a battered brown bowl with a gnarled handle.

But even more embarrassing than the form was the fact that Sherlock had painted several bees on it which were shaping a heart and in the middle he had written in his premature handwriting 'Best Mormy Ever' - he had even spelled Mummy wrong. It was humiliating.

"Why do you even still have that thing?" Sherlock asked with a raised brow, obviously giving up on the former subject and pointing with his spoon at the cup.

She smiled, looking at the cup, "Because my very beloved son made it for me and because he's become rather sparingly with expressing such sentiment towards others."

"I do." Sherlock murmured after a moment of silence, looking at his food, stirring the cereals.

His mother chuckled, "You do what?"

"You know what I mean."

"I fear I don't, my dear son." Mummy said and Sherlock didn't even have to look up at her to know she was smirking.

With a sigh, Sherlock lifted his head, scrunching up his nose, "I love you, Mum." he said reluctantly and stood up, grabbing his bag which he had placed next to his chair, watching from the corner of his eye how his Dad put his papers down,

"Did my ears betray me? Did you just admit you love your parents?" his father said with a playfully raised brow, chuckling deeply.

"I admitted that I love Mummy." Sherlock corrected and stuck out his tongue.

"Ouch." Mr Holmes deadpanned and Sherlock couldn't help but chuckle at his expression.

"Fine, you too." Sherlock muttered, before turning and starting out the kitchen.

"That was the closest I've come to an actual 'I love you, Dad' since I gave him that high tec microscope for christmas a few months ago." his father joked and Mummy chuckled along with the man.

"I wouldn't mind to hear that more often as well." she said on purpose loud enough for Sherlock to hear and chuckled which Sherlock only answered with a roll of his eyes.

"See you in the afternoon!" Sherlock called from the front door, slipping into his coat and scarf.

"Have a nice day, dear!" he heard his Mum call right before he closed the door and started to walk, the school was only five minutes away. His flat at Baker Street was half an hour away by foot, which meant that he whether had to cycle to school or he'd take a cab every morning – of course he could as well get up earlier, but he didn't want to. So cab it was, then.

When he arrived at the school, he hesitated for a moment, seeing all those people going in there, briefly tempted to just turn around and just put up with every consequences his parents could think of, but then he plucked up his courage and walked on, deciding to give this a go. Perhaps what Mummy said about his aloof mask wasn't such a bad idea. - maybe if he'd extend that behaviour a bit, pretend to be much more confident and aloof than he actually was, maybe then nobody would dare to come close to him. It was worth a try, wasn't it?

While Sherlock walked through the doors of his new school, he was already able to tell that this school would be like all those Sherlock had read about only by looking at his dull schoolmates that were flooding the hall. Giggling girls, boys that tried to look cool, leaning casually against the lockers, all grouped in different cliques, but when one looked closely, they were all just the same. Just like the boring teachers which strolled occasionally through the crowd, looking all but motivated. Oh this was going to be torture, days full of dull people saying stupid things and Sherlock was forced to keep his mouth shut.

With a roll of his eyes, he made his way through the hall, feeling the average IQ rise immensely by his mere presence – and also feeling slightly intimidated, not by certain persons, but by the large amount of people. God, he hated that. Finally reaching the locker that was his, he stuffed his books into it and first of all got rid of that terrible blazer and tie, opening the two top buttons of his shirt and hitching up his sleeves. - it would help with his plan, he figured and it helped immensely to not feel so insecure anymore, now that he was looking a bit more like himself.

Only now looking at his lesson plan, he sighed. English, Biology, then Chemistry. Yeah, like they could actually teach him something new. So several hours of boredom before the first break. Great. Taking everything he needed – or not needed, seeing as he wasn't going to pretend he was studying if there was nothing to learn – he walked to the first class, managing to arrive fifteen minutes too late at the classroom, seeing as he had decided to go for a smoke and had had to look for a good spot before. The smoking bad boy who didn't bother if he was too late. That could actually work.

Entering the room, he unfolded his lesson plan again, glacing down at his teacher's name, before murmuring an irritated "Morning, Mr Watson..." without sparing the man a look and walking over to a free seat. He was certainly not going to introduce himself to the class or what other nonsense was expected from a new student.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, John didn't exactly turn Sherlock's world upside down, yet, but in the next chapter then, promise ♥


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> »I'm not a virgin, I'm just gay!«

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are again, sorry for making you wait ages for this :/ had a truckload of things to do and god, real life takes up far too much time recently. But I'll try to continue this as soon as possible :) :) :)
> 
> However, have fun with this chapter and let me know what you think :)
> 
> Edit: Okay so just because I love to have a face in mind for every chara (except for Sher and John since we all have our own headcanons of them :3) I've put in a link to my head canon of teen Irene (ooh that rhymes). If you aren't interested, just ignore it, it isn't really important for the story ^.^

 

Sherlock frowned at the silent, barely audible gasps, coming from his new classmates, only now registering that there were no giggles, or 'oooh's', which he had expected to come. It was almost so quiet that you could hear a pin drop and considering he was among a bunch of teenagers that meant something was wrong.

»Well, well, well...« Sherlock had an unfamilar voice behind him and along with a creaking, wooden noise – a chair shifting over the floor, apparently. »Mr Holmes, isn't it?« the voice continued in an almost amused manner and Sherlock could already smell trouble.

»Oh, yeah, that's me. Hi.« Sherlock said nonchalantly and finally turned around, giving the voice a face and … oh. Not just a face, but a round, pale face that looked timeless and … handsome?

It could have been the face of a boy and at the same time it would suit an old man. Sherlock was frozen in place, utterly fascinated of those deep blue eyes, that looked ever changing like the sea in a storm and still strong and clear like a diamond. It took Sherlock a long moment to even realise the man – Mr Watson – was still talking to him.

»...we clear on that?« Mr Watson finished, his hands placed over his beige, slightly grey-ish woolen jumper on his hips as he was speaking and Sherlock needed another minute to unbend, before he frowned at the just slightly taller man (Sherlock gave it three months and he'd be taller than Mr Watson).

»Sorry...?« he asked dizzily with a delay and shook his head, literally trying to shake off his thoughts as Mr Watson gave an unnerved sigh and right now, there weren't even gasps, it had become deadly silent.

» _I said..._ « the approximately ten years older man said, emphasising his words, » ...that you are granted a very short period of grace as it's your first day on a public school, or in fact any type of school , but from tomorrow on, I expect you to not only be _in time_ , but _five minutes early_ to my classes.« Mr Watson continued, leaving a short pause, seemingly to make his speech just a tiny bit more dramatic.

» _Also_ , if you ever be late to my classes from this moment on and/or smoke on school ground, you'll suffer the consequences. Any breach of the school's rules will entail a disciplinary warning letter that is supposed to be picked up by either your parents or legal guardian. Three of those and you'll get a fourth letter along with it, as that'll be your invitation to your expulsion hearing. Understood, Holmes?« the man finished in a stern manner, now crossing his arms in front of his chest and Sherlock found his attitude would rather suit a military officer than a highschool teacher.

Sherlock just nodded, still being utterly startled and even a little intimidated by the other man as Mr Watson pointed over to a free seat in the back of the class.

» _Perfect_ .« Mr Watson mused, visibly satisfied with himself, but still far from smiling . »Sit then.« the man said and Sherlock obeyed, strolling sheepishly through the class and over to what was seemingly his seat for now. » Oh and Holmes, the next time I see you, you _will_ wear your uniform properly.«

He couldn't even tell what had happened just now. Sherlock had never been lost for words or unable to gave a snarky reply. It was a mystery to him that the man's whole appearance had thrown him off the track like that.

He wasn't all that special. He was nothing. He was just another idiot. An idiot with a pretty face maybe, but still an idiot. His IQ was probably average at best and he was rude. And it took a lot for Sherlock to point that one out. There was a difference between being just dumb and being dumb and rude.

 

Time passed slowly and Sherlock felt like even watching an hour glass would have been more exciting than listening to A level english. He was almost bored enough to actually work. _Almost_ .

Busying himself with his phone under the table did help a little and apparently Mr Watson wasn't paying attention to him anymore as he wasn't going off about rules again. _Rules_ . Sherlock even hated how that word sounded. Rules were just a social construct, made up by authorities to keep the public in line – or pupils for that matter. He sure as hell wasn't going to arrive five minutes early, nor was he about to wear that uniform _properly_ . No, nope, _certainly not_ .

Sherlock jumped up from his chair the second the bell rang, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder, making a beeline to the door and leaving the room. He needed a cigarette, maybe then he'd be able to think better and figure out what had all this been about this morning. Finding an explanation why this teacher wasn't leaving his mind and why it had been so hard for him not to look at him during english class.

Walking through the corridor, Sherlock headed for the backdoor he had found this morning as he was looking for a spot to smoke, passing it and making his way over the back of the gym, where a bunch of large trees were standing, the ground covered in cigarette butts, letting Sherlock know that he wasn't the first one finding this spot useful.

Slipping into the small corner, Sherlock sighed silently to himself, finding it crowded, instead of being empty as it had been during the first period. Great. That was just great. Rolling his eyes, he occupied a small spot to himself, that was as far away from everyone else as possible, leaning against the brown-ish brickwall of the gym as he pulled out his cigarettes, taking one out of the pack and lighting it up, before slipping the pack back into his pocket and taking a deep drag, relaxing into the blue smoke that left his lips as he exhaled.

»Someone's picked up with _Captain_ Watson's bad side this morning, huh...« Sherlock suddenly heard a voice next to him, turning his head to look at the girl that had just approached him and Sherlock recognised her face. She was in his english course. He scanned her up and down, wondering briefly about the way she was wearing her uniform (the way that reminded him of an old 90's - wanna be nasty - music video) wearing no jacket, the blouse knotted about two inches above the waistband of her skirt, barely covering her belly button and the piercing that was dangling from it. She had the two top button opened, the tie hanging loosely around her neck and the skirt was shortened by hand. Sherlock raised his brows, being equally annoyed and surprised to be disturbed and that by a girl. A girl like that anyway.

»Do I know you?« he asked, sucking at his cigarette again and blinking stupidly at the girl when she pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and took a drag herself, smearing her dark red lipstick onto the cork tip and making Sherlock's nose scrunch up in disgust at the prospect of having that on his lips.

»Oh, you should.« she said and shot Sherlock a smirk around the cigarette. »I'm the hottest thing in this place although I might have to share my crown with you...« she said giving a small wave of hand to underline her words. »[ **Irene Adler**](http://www.filimadami.com/artist_pictures/big/10175_1353898132.png), pleasure to meet you, Holmes. But you know what I'm wondering...« she babbled on and Sherlock pulled another cigarette out, certainly not going for the other one again.

»What?« he sighed, his voice dripping with disinterest as he lit up his cigarette, this time making sure to hold it a little away from that Irene woman.

»I was wondering if Mr Holmes has a first name?« she asked and Sherlock couldn't fight a little huffed chuckle.

»Seriously, you put on that whole show, just to ask me for my first name?« he asked and raised his brows again, »What happened to the good old, 'what's your name'?«

Irene giggled lowly, »Oh, don't be like that. I know you were enjoying it... and well, there's a much better show I could put on for you...« she murmured, walking a step closer to Sherlock and placing her hand on his upper arm.

»Not interested.« Sherlock said and shuffled further into the corner, getting a little uncomfortable about the situation.

»Oooh, we have a shy one here...« Irene purred, again stepping closer.

Sherlock sighed, gritting his teeth ever so slightly, his mouth forming a thin line. » There's a difference between being shy and not being interested and with you, it's the latter.« he stated firmly, pressing his back tightly against the wall now and feeling a little trapped as there was no way to escape this girl. If that was what his mother meant by making friends, then Sherlock was right to have been wary about it.

»Ah... you're completely unexperienced, aren't you? Being a virgin doesn't have to be a permanent state, you know...«

»Oh for fuck's sake!« Sherlock grumbled, slipping past Irene with just enough force to push her a bit aside, but not enough to hurt her. »I'm not a virgin, I'm just gay!« he stated loudly, having meant it to be the perfect excuse to break out of this situation, hoping that'd once and for all make her leave him alone.

He hadn't expected the wave of laughter that followed quickly, the whole group in the smoking corner looking at him, pointing at him even. Perfect.

Dropping the half smoked cigarette – the second one that was wasted – he quickly left, ignoring the still on laughter and in particular muting out a clique that found it apparently even funnier to call him names – very explicit names.

His first day on this school wasn't even over and he was already made fun of. For something that was even only more or less true as he had no idea what he really was, having not found the right term yet. He liked to call it asexual, but that was only an unverified supposition.

What he knew, though was that from now on, he'd need another place to go for a smoke, preferably far, far away from this whole bloody building and everybody it contained.

Calling his parents to pick him up and letting him go back to having private teachers wasn't an option at the moment, though. What was he supposed to say? I was hit on by some uncouth girl, accidentally said I'm gay to get her off my back and now I'm being bullied? That'd probably work, but it would trigger a sort of conversation with his parents he didn't want to have. For one, because it just wasn't their business and second, he wouldn't know what to say if they asked if he was in fact gay as he did know he was more interested in males than females.

Shaking his head, he rushed to the next lesson, since at least in class nobody would bother him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, and for all you people who dislike Irene, as far as I can tell at the moment she isn't going to play a major part in the story, although I'm making no promises on that as I don't know myself yet where the story will go. Nonetheless, two things are set in stone for me:  
> 1\. Johnlock for life ♥  
> 2\. Happy ends ♥
> 
> PS: I'd really like feedback here, because I'm not too sure about this chapter... so critic is very welcome^^

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, as I already said, I've been and still am super busy, but I will continue this. Pinky promise ♥ even if it takes a little while :3


End file.
